


Lay Some Bricks Down

by orange_8_hands



Series: Nails and Teeth [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: 5 Things, Abandonment, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Biphobia, Cooking, Episode: s02e03 Bloodlust, Episode: s04e22 Lucifer Rising, F/F, F/M, Gambling, Gen, Homophobia, Internalized Biphobia, Masturbation, POV Female Character, POV Second Person, Pre-Canon, Pre-Slash, Rape/Non-con References, Self-Esteem, Sex, Underage Drinking, Underage Sex, Underage Sex Work, Weechesters, Wordcount: 1.000-5.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-26
Updated: 2012-02-26
Packaged: 2017-10-31 18:23:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/347060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orange_8_hands/pseuds/orange_8_hands
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dee picked up a lot more than people thought. (pre-slash Cas/Dee)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: Mentions of child rape, underage sex work, child abandonment, biphobia, underage drinking, underage gambling, underage sex. Oh, there's also a masturbation scene while watching a threesome porno.
> 
> Notes: This is my girl!verse (written to explain why canon-Cas/Dean never went that final step), which means some other genders are changed. Mentioned below: Gertrude = Gordon Walker, Jamie = Jimmy Novak, Aaron = Anna Milton, Chris = Cassie Robinson. Dialogue in Ch. 3 and 4 is lifted from their respective episodes - 2.03 "Bloodlust" and 4.22 "Lucifer Rising"(ch. 3 mostly verbatim and ch. 4 is played with more.) 
> 
> Stand-alone for the verse.

You're making chicken and green beans and it's hard because you're still teeny tiny but Daddy's having a very important meeting until really, really late and he needed your help so you push the chair to the counter and stand on it so you can reach because Daddy says you're very good at thinking outside of the box (you aren't sure what box he means, but you're outside of it and Daddy's tone tells you that's a good thing) and you dump the frozen bag of green beans into the bowl. You move the chair over so you can stick the green beans in the microwave and then you have to drag it allll the way back to grab the seasoning which Daddy says makes the bird taste yummy and you coat it in a very thin layer because you remember last time and Daddy got red in the face and took you both out to McDonald's instead and warned you about your heavy hand for next time (and McDonald's is a special treat so don't be doing it on purpose Deanna Winchester.) Finally you coat all the pieces and then you open the oven door and lift the pan into it by pushing it far above your head and you wobble but you don't drop it because you're super super strong, like Superman, and then you close the door and drag the chair over and set the timer and you have dinner cooking like a big girl.   
  
You raise your hands like Rocky and Sammy giggles and claps where she's watching you from her playpen so you go over and lift her out - she's so heavy! - and she smiles her best smile at you so you have to tickle her and you both roll around the floor laughing like loons (you don't know what a loon is but Daddy always smiles when he says it so loons must be pretty awesome) and then the door opens and Daddy's home early. You're bigger so you reach him first and get hugged and then he picks up Sammy and settles her on his hip (you're a big girl, you don't need to be carried around, but sometimes if you fall asleep when you and Daddy are watching movies because you're older and get to stay up a _whole hour_ after Sammy he'll pick you up gently and place you in bed and kiss your forehead and you get a warm glow to fall back asleep to) and checks on the chicken and says, "You did really good, Dee, thank you," and you smile because you are the best helper ever.  
  
He puts Sammy down and you both run to the bathroom to wash your hands (and even with the stool you have to help Sammy reach over the counter cause she's just a baby) and then you're back in the kitchen and Daddy has the chicken and green beans already on the table. He settles Sammy and you climb onto the chair and Sammy babbles but mostly she's making up words to make noise because Sammy is a noisy baby and Daddy is asking you all about your day at school because Mrs. McLinden picked you up today while Daddy had to go and see a man about a book. And maybe Daddy will let you look at it (he let's you, sometimes, and mostly it's just words you can't read but sometimes it's really awesome pictures with exploding skins and heads with ten eyes.)  
  
Daddy is cutting Sammy's chicken into itty bitty little bits so Sammy doesn't choke and you're telling Daddy all about Serena because today was her birthday and her moms brought in cupcakes for everyone and you got one with chocolate frosting on it and maybe possibly you can go to her birthday party on Sunday? (Serena said it wasn't your fault you just moved and didn't get invited in the first place because she didn't know you then, but now that she knows you she said you especially had to come because you were best friends now.)  
  
"Mom," Daddy says absently, pointing at Sammy to start eating because sometimes Sammy gets really, really stubborn and scrunches up her face and won't eat and then it becomes what Uncle Jim calls a big battle of the wills, which doesn't make sense because your Daddy always wins at battles but sometimes Sammy still doesn't eat and is cranky all night.  
  
"Huh?" you ask, and take a big sip of water. The chicken doesn't taste like chicken tenders and it doesn't taste like Daddy's chicken but Daddy will get mad at you if you don't eat at least ten bites because chicken costs a lot of money and Daddy doesn't grow it on trees.  
  
"Mom, not moms, Dee," Daddy says.  
  
"No, Mrs. Kepton said one was her mommy and one was her friend and Serena said she had two mommies-" (which isn't fair, because you only have a memory of a mommy and Serena gets two whole mommies but you don't say that because then Daddy will get all sad and then he'll drink something from his secret bottle and get all smelly and stumble around and then Sammy will cry) "- and then Mrs. Kepton had a real quiet conversation with her two mommies and then we got cupcakes and Daddy, I got chocolate frosting and it tasted so, so good. Can I go on Sunday to her birthday party, Daddy?"  
  
Daddy frowns at you and you want to pat his hand because talking about mommies always makes your Daddy sad (and sometimes it feels like a huge balloon is filling bigger and bigger in your chest when you talk about mommies and if Daddy feels like that too you know why he doesn't want to talk about mommy because that feeling is yucky) but he's missing the point because he didn't say if you could go on Sunday.  
  
"You know," he says, and pauses for a long, long time so you take another big gulp of water. "You know most people don't have two mommies right?"  
  
"Right," you say.  
  
"And it's not..." he trails off and you want to fidget because Daddy has that tone you hate but Daddy hates fidgeting, "I just don't want you at their house, Dee."  
  
"Except for on Sunday?" you ask.  
  
"No, I mean always. It's not... two women..." he trails off again, and Daddy's face is red and his tone is bad and you just want to stop him talking about this, you didn't really want to go to Serena's birthday party or have chocolate cake or play stupid baby games like pin the tail on the donkey.  
  
"It's okay, Daddy," you say and swallow hard because all this talk about mommies has the balloon growing in your chest and then Sammy throws her green beans on to the kitchen floor and Daddy turns away and you don't talk about it anymore, and besides you pack up the car and turn in the key Saturday morning so you couldn't have gone to the party anyways. 


	2. Chapter 2

You're fucking poor. You have been since you were four, and even if you didn't realize it immediately, it is a lesson hammered home every time you try to buy food, every time you try to buy clothes, every time your father leaves you alone and one weekend stretches into three weeks and he only left you one fucking cash advance because for all the man can strategize hunts he can't seem to get the fucking reality of the cost of normal. You once asked him how much milk cost, and the confusion on his face says it all, right there, so when you're eleven you officially take over the family's finances because if you're going to be charged with little things like feeding and electricity, if you're in charge of lying to the landlord about when Daddy gets back and that no, no need to call CPS and yes I'm sure we can work out an arrangement, then you're going to do it with all the resources as your disposal. Dad still pockets some because you're hardly buying him booze, but for the most part he gives you the cash and tells you the cards and you work out supplies with him, after Sammy has gone to sleep and your father comes home tired, after homework is finished and you cleaned up a little because you're actually staying in this place longer than a month. You explain he can either have another bag of salt or the gun grease, but Sammy needs some new fucking shoes and you want the refrigerator to keep running, and Dad doesn't listen to you about much but he listens about this. You pocket money, here and there, and you don't know exactly what for because every day is your fucking rainy day emergency, but you carve out space in the car he doesn't know about because Sammy will go through your personal bag and Dad will go through your hunting bag, and it's not like your gonna put this shit in a bank.  
  
You don't like dating (you want to fuck the guy, not get to know him), but you go out because they'll pay and if you order a large enough meal you can take half of it home to Sam in a doggie bag, and though she complains because she complains about everyfuckingthing, a lot of guys will take you to fancy places to impress and Sam can handle only so much diner food. Sometimes you get their leftover meal too, and those are guys you'll kiss because Sammy is a growing girl and keeping her fed is hard, so you'll kiss them in gratitude even if you still never call them back, you don't want a fucking boyfriend.  
  
You don't take your father's bottles but it's not like it's hard to fucking get. When you're fourteen you and Dad and Sammy hole up at Caleb's for the summer and Dad teaches you about pool tables and poker and cover stories and making documents, and you don't tell him you know how to fucking scam because your father lives in kind of a fantasy world (and you don't mean about monsters), but he teaches you some good skills and shows you the games and then sends you out to bars to practice and you pocket a little more money. He wants you comfortable with alcohol and your tolerance level so he gives you a shot and sees how you do, gives you two and tests your reflexes, gives you three and checks your eyes. You like the taste and you like the spreading warmth and you like building your body up so it can take it. You go to bars and you learn other tips, watching other women you learn other things because you can't run scams like your Dad, it doesn't work the same way, and you buy a skirt and put up with groping hands and run the table and shoot the whiskey and bring home some money, and if you knew he was doing all of this so he could fucking leave you alone for longer you wouldn't have fucking taken to it so well.  
  
You're young and hot and strong and have an awesome resume, even if the numbers at the end just lead to Bobby and five prepaid cell phones, so you pick up work and have the fake IDs to prove your old enough to be on your own, old enough to watch your sister, as long as no one connects you to being a high school student, as long as no one at school takes a special interest, and CPS just becomes another bad memory in a lifetime of them.  It's not like you need it, not really, so when you're missing too many days from hunts with your dad and extra shifts at the restaurant you finally accept the inevitable and drop out. Sam just looks at you like you betrayed her, but she looks like that every time you do anything these days and a GED works just as fucking well as a diploma for the life you're leading. If you needed an actual certificate you'd forge one.   
  
You try not to bring bottles back wherever you and Sam are because you don't need that fucking lecture, but you spend half your life in bars, talking to witnesses and earning money (you switch off between working pool tables and working as a bartender, depending on how long you're in the area for), and you never in your life had to pay for a drink, so you can have the warmth and not waste your fucking money on it, not show Sammy it. You don't take open drinks because who knows what they could have fucking added (enough after school special episodes and your father's own warnings - though he meant it more as a hunter - cautioned you about that) and you don't get drunk, never too far gone, but you drink and you loosen up and you have fun. Sometimes when you're in the college bars guys will offer you something extra if you kiss their girlfriend, or their friend, or the total fucking stranger who looks good in tight jeans and a tighter top, and frankly it's not any different from anything else you've ever done and it’s really not a big deal, even if you almost have a heart attack when Dad walks in two minutes before you started something you definitely don't want him seeing.  
  
Gloria, who is forty and a mother of two and chain smokes like a bad cartoon, takes you aside and shows you how to mix. You're in Vegas and you pocket about five hundred in tips a night and it's not Sammy's kind of city and it's not your father's kind of town but it's basically a transitional place to live, new people coming and going all the fucking time, and you are a transitional kind of girl. Gloria tells you about being a show girl and a stripper and once, both of you fucking exhausted but can't face home (Sammy fucking screaming and your father fucking screaming and you can only hold them back so far before they shake you loose), she tells you about a six month period of being a hooker, and you don't mention anything but you don't say she's wrong about that question in her eyes, and it's probably a good thing you have to pack up and leave the next day without saying goodbye.  
  
(You send her a postcard with the scene of a beach and you don't sign it and she's never studied your handwriting but you know she'll know who it's from, you know she'll get the one word thanks you leave on the back, and the beach is as close as either of you are ever gonna get to paradise.)  
  
When Sam leaves, when she finally fucking leaves, you take the cash you've been hiding for ten years and stick it in her duffle bag and let her hug you and then you take the hundred you didn't give her and buy a few bottles and spend the weekend on the couch drunk off your ass, Sammy heading to California and your father heading to Florida and you just heading into what is surprisingly your first bender.  
  
You're in New Mexico, at the time.


	3. Chapter 3

It's not like you can talk about this shit with other people, not like you can answer your co-worker's question of "what'd you do this weekend" with "decapitated a vampire." (It's not like you _have_ a fucking co-worker besides Sammy, and Sammy's your little sister.) It feels good, feels new, to be able to sit down and talk about what it is you really do, with someone who knows. (You've tried talking to someone who doesn't know, and can still feel Chris's metaphorical bootprint on your ass.)  
  
"So, I pick up the crossbow and hit the ugly sucker with a silver-tipped arrow, right in his heart. Sammy's waiting in the car, and me and my Dad take the thing into the woods, burn it to a crisp. And I'm sitting there and I'm looking into the fire, and I'm just thinking to myself, I'm fourteen years old. Most kids my age are worrying about pimples, and I'm seeing things they'll never even know, never even dream of. So right then, that's when I just sort of..."   
  
"Embraced the life?"  
  
"Yeah." You roll the beer bottle into your other hand. "How'd you get started?"  
  
"First time I saw a vampire I was barely eighteen. Home alone with my sister. I hear the window break in her room. I grab my dad's gun, run in, try to get it off her. Too late. So I shoot the damn thing." Gertrude laughs, head tilted back. You watch the light play against her skin. You recognize that laugh. You have that laugh. "Which of course is about as useful as snapping it with a rubber band. It rushes me, picks me up, flings me across the room, knocks me out cold. When I wake up, the vampire's gone, my sister's gone."  
  
You swallow down your instinctive fear, hearing someone else lose their sister. "And then?"  
  
"Then," Gertrude says, shaking her head. "Try explaining that to your family. So I left home. And then bummed around looking for information: how you track 'em, how you kill 'em. And I found that fang - it was my first kill." 

"I'm sorry about your sister," you say, even though you know the words don't matter.  
  
Gertrude nods, takes a swallow of beer. "Yeah. She was beautiful. I can still see her, you know? The way she was." She comes back and focuses on your eyes again. "But hey, that was a long time ago. I mean, your dad. It's gotta be rough."  
  
It's your turn to look around the bar, watching fucking civilians. "He...I didn't ever think he'd be gone, you know? Didn't think anything could kill him. And then, he's just...I can't talk about this to Sammy. Can't let her see..." You clear your throat, tip your head back and look at the cracks in the ceiling. "Truth is, I'm, um, I'm not handling it very well. I feel like I have this-"  
  
"Hole inside you?" Your eyes snap back to Gertrude's. "And it just gets bigger and bigger and darker and darker?"  
  
You can't say anything, but she just nods, smiles a little. "Good. You can use it. Keeps you hungry. Trust me. There's plenty out there that needs killing, and this'll help you do it. It's not a crime to need your job, Dee." She pauses, watching you. "You know why I love this job?"   
  
"Hmm?" 

"It's all black and white. All simple. There's no maybe. You find the bad thing, you kill it, end of story. See, most people spend their lives in shades of gray. Is this right? Is that wrong? Not us."  
  
You shake your head. "Not sure Sammy would agree with you there."  
  
Gertrude grabs your hand, traps it under hers. "Doesn't seem like your sister is much like us." Your hand flexes, startled under hers, and she runs her thumb over your wrist point, almost soothingly. "I'm not saying she's wrong. Just different. But you and me? We were born to do this. It's in our blood."  
  
You're not sure she's right, you don't think she’s really right, but you don't take your hand from under hers. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now with timestamp to ch. 3: [Got This Shifting Line in the Sand](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1091489)
> 
> ETA (1-28-13): Changed the age from 16 to 14 and got rid of the words "driver's licenses and." This has been bothering me since I posted it and I wanted to change it for future stories. ETA 2 (12-20-13): Also removed the line "Black and white, she said" because that's been bothering me too.


	4. Chapter 4

You fucking call her, of course you fucking call her. (Maybe, maybe there was one moment when Bobby asked you what the fuck you were doing, when the fuck you thought it would be okay to give up on your sister, and the answer was never, the answer was always never, so you're calling, you're in this fucking fancy-ass room with angel wars depicted on paintings and porcelain statues that remind you of your mother, she had faith in this shit except maybe she didn't, maybe she just said angels were watching over you because she actually knew about the monsters that did, or fuck, maybe she did meet an angel, and she meant it as a warning, as a threatening promise.) You call her and you can't reach her and you thought your mother burning to death was bad, you thought Sam leaving you for college was bad, you thought your father trading himself for you was bad, but there's something in your gut saying this is worse and you trust your instincts, you have always trusted your instincts even when they were wrong but you're positive they aren't wrong, not this time, you're missing a clue here and you don't know what it is, you need Sammy and her freaky brain and fuck, you think that may be irony, you were never good at English.  
  
"You won't be able to reach her," Cas says, and you don't even jump.  
  
"What are you fuckheads doing to Sammy?" you ask, pushing into her space, this time you're pushing into the space she's never left between you, or not since you met Jamie, not since Cas came back into a human body like it was a slip on and said fuck you in the way only Cas could. (You never fucking asked her to serve. You asked her for help.)  
  
(You asked her to _care_ .)  
  
"We will do nothing. She will do it all."  
  
Your hands are bunching in her jacket, her stupid fucking beige coat, and you space out each word carefully, because you are terrified, in the privacy of your own head (let Cas read this fucking thought) you are as always terrified of losing your sister. "What. Do. You. Mean?"  
  
Cas drops her gaze and you step back like you've been punched, because Cas has never not meet your eyes, Cas has never been the one who couldn't hold her head up. "Right," you say, and you’re breathing heavy. "I forgot, the angel squad called you back into the fold." You scrub your hands over your face. "So why are you here Cas?"  
  
"We-" she starts, stops. Cas licks her lips, looks at you and away again. "We have been through much together. We-" Her expression flickers, changes back too fast for you to catch it. "I wanted to apologize. For it ending this way."  
  
You laugh. It tears in your throat like sound has jagged edges. You remember what Aaron said, when Cas came to take him away. Angels didn’t know the meaning of the word sorry, and for all Cas can't look at you, for all she looks like the smallest amount of shame may be lining her words, she isn't doing anything about it.  
  
"The world's fucking ending, Cas," you tell her. "I don't think an 'I'm sorry' you don't even understand is going to cut it."  
  
"I understand it," Cas says, and she's finally looking at you, and it's like every fucking time you have gathered your courage enough to look the angel in the eyes. You think (you thought, once) holding her stare would be hard, but it's not, this time it's not because you know, you know for once you aren't the one trying to drag the other down to the muck. You aren't the one who's dirty. "But this is long-"  
  
"Don't start that fucking destiny crap, Cas. Don't tell me watching billions of people die is okay because someone told you it was foretold. Don't tell me humanity has to die because someone wants the story told a certain way."  
  
"And why should we save humanity, Deanna?" Cas is in your face, Cas is suddenly right there, and even pissed, even sick with worry over Sammy, even with the growing dread of the last few years reaching new highs, there is a part of you that feels like you, one of the many sections of you that apparently couldn't be dragged back from hell but still makes appearances in Cas's presence.   
  
Cas traces one finger over your cheek. "I have seen inside of you, Deanna Winchester. I have seen what humans have done to you, and I have seen what you have done in turn. Humanity is about pain, and you have suffered enough. You will be at peace. You will be with Sam. What more do you need? What more do you want but that which we are offering you?"  
  
There is a burn inside of your chest, and you grab her wrist. "I'll take my pain a thousand times over your stepford paradise lies." You throw her wrist down and she lets you, head tilted just slightly and fuck, saying this, admitting this, believing this hurts, but you can't follow where she wants to lead you, you could never follow where she wanted to lead you. "Fuck your fucking peace, Cas. There is a right, and there is a wrong here, and you know it. You fucking know it, Cas. So stop with the bullshit and excuses and good soldier routine. You know the right thing to do."  
  
Cas starts to turn and this time it's your hands on her face, cupping the sides and pulling on her ears, like they can anchor you. "You were going to help me once. You were - before they dragged you back to bible camp you were going to warn me. Help me now."  
  
"What would you have me do?"  
  
"Get me to Sam. Get me to Sam so we can stop this before it's too late."  
  
"We will all be hunted. We will all be killed."  
  
"If there's anything worth dying for...this is it."  
  
"Samantha will die," she says, and it's another punch, but you don't move, you don't look away.  
  
"This is worth it, Cas," and it feels like betrayal, but it's true, you don't feel it but you know it's true, it has to be true.  
  
Her eyes are so blue, and when she turns away it slices like ribbons, you are cut into strips once again, you are being broken again because you keep offering shattered pieces of yourself like they mean something.  
  
"But I guess you don't care about that," and your voice is hoarse, and it's as much anger as hatred now. "You spineless, soulless _thing_ ...We're done."  
  
She turns her gaze back to you; her vessel's eyes are so blue.  
  
"We're done," you say again, and when Cas leaves it's not another betrayal because she was never in your corner to begin with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now with timestamp to ch. 4: [Fall Under the Thought](http://archiveofourown.org/works/347104)


	5. Chapter 5

Sammy finally leaves you alone for five fucking minutes, and you don't waste any time tapping into one of the ten thousand porn channels offered at the fine establishment you ended up in - and whatever, you've stayed in worse, Sam is such a fucking drama queen about this shit - tank top off but you leave your underwear on, silk panties already damp. You end up on a threesome you've never seen before, two women and a man, not your usual fair but you'll take it, you really don't need much help to get yourself off right now, been on the edge all fucking day and you don't know why ( _I am here for you, Deanna_ ), and the porn does what correct porn is supposed to do, which is get right to the fucking action, and the two women are slithering all over the man's body, shaped just like you like it with a swimmer's build, all lean muscles and sun-kissed skin, and you run your hands up and down your sides, start to play with your nipples but you're too impatient, you just want to feel (something), so you rake your nails lightly against your panties, just enough for the low thrum of tingles to start on your clit. One of the woman slips onto the guy's cock and is starting to ride him, and the other woman is crawling behind her, hands covering breasts, squeezing down on pink nipples jutting forward, and you're pushing your finger down harder, rubbing faster against the silk, and the woman reaches around and starts to finger the other one, hand bumping into the guy's cock as he pushes in and out, and you've already moved inside your panties to feel the wet heat, heavy breathing and you're jacking yourself, using two fingers now so they cover a wider surface, left hand working it while your right fists the bedspread, and it's like long slow waves of pleasure running over you, inside of you, looping around and around, tingles strong and clit pulsing and you feel yourself tighten, watching the two women (man, you mean), the one behind rutting against the other one, hand still moving in time to some steady rhythm all three of them having going on, and you can feel yourself reaching that razor thin edge you get to right before your pleasure explodes and then _Cas's fucking face_ flashes in your mind and you're fucking groaning, moaning, you're letting it drag out as long as possible and you're fucking panting into the empty room along with the TV.  
  
You come down and wipe your fingers off on your panties, already fucking dirty, and you click off the TV even though the actors are still going at it. You feel limp as fuck, muscles finally relaxed, but you can't stay still, not now, and you stagger to the shower and blast it cold and don't think anymore for the rest of the night, especially not...you just don't think, is all, and you spend the next night fucking the first dude that catches your eye.

**Author's Note:**

> It was always my personal belief that Dean was bisexual, but repressed any same-sex urges because 1. Its good odds the Kansas ex-Marine let's-kill-everything-hinting-at-supernatural John is not the most tolerant fucker in this area either; 2. At some point or another Dean was probably molested; 3. Dean (and probably the people he frequently interacts with who know him as a hunter) has an antiquated view of masculinity, as (probably) does the father he tries to replicate; 4. Dean was probably bullied - and if not he definitely saw it - with homophobic language as a kid over the many schools he went to before he became the mysterious bad boy. (Dean? Kind of a geek as a young kid.); 5. The tension he does not fucking think about between Sam and him, but has people mistaking them for a gay couple. So I wrote it as girl!Dean, but this is some of the background that lead to canon-Cas/Dean never actually going that final step.
> 
> Reminder: Timestamp to ch. 3: [Got This Shifting Line in the Sand](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1091489) (Part 9); Timestamp to ch. 4: [Fall Under the Thought](http://archiveofourown.org/works/347104) (Part 3)


End file.
